Love Means Never Having to Say jIQos
by CaptAcorn
Summary: B'Elanna is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, thank you very much. Takes place between Nothing Human and 30 Days. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note** : This little bit of angst-y fluff was written for the lovely and talented **Sareki02** , who, about a year ago, took me under her fanfic wing and has helped me, with much patience and encouragement, to become a better writer. I am happy and blessed to call her my friend and Ideal Reader.

Since I couldn't let her beta read this one, I had to rope some others into it this go-round. So many thanks go to **rsb** , **Delwin** , and (as always) **Photogirl1890** for all their help!

Lastly - ' _jIQos_ ' means 'sorry' in Klingon.

* * *

"The Doctor says you've been ignoring his medical advice."

"The Doctor is being such a mother-hen I should adjust his holomatrix to give him feathers," B'Elanna countered, shoveling in a forkful of eggs to keep a nastier retort from escaping. She should have known better when Chakotay asked her to join him in his quarters for breakfast. Of course he had an ulterior motive. Since she'd left Sickbay, it seemed like everyone that talked to her did.

"B'Elanna-"

"I'll tell you the same thing I told him and Tom and Harry and Neelix - I'm fine!" She reached across to grab the coffee pot and pour herself a refill only to find that her hand didn't feel like cooperating. Her grip loosened without warning, causing the pot to tip and dump its contents all over Chakotay's dining table. "Damn it!" She jumped up and started sopping up the mess with her napkin.

"B'Elanna." Chakotay put his hand over hers until it stilled. "Forget the coffee. Just talk to me, will you?"

The half-Klingon eased back into her seat, still holding the drippy napkin. Now that she'd convinced her stupid hand to grab something, it had cramped up and was slow to let go again. _Damn it._ She looked up to meet Chakotay's worried eyes. "I'm fine," she repeated, more quietly this time.

"You're on medical leave."

"I know." Her hand, which had apparently decided to start communicating with her brain again, fiddled with the handle of her fork.

"Then why did Carey comm me last night to tell me you'd been in Engineering for nearly six hours and refused to leave?"

"I had things to do." Now her feet were tingling. _Wonderful._

"The only thing you're supposed to be doing is recuperating." She heard Chakotay let out a frustrated sigh as she stared fixedly at the lake of coffee that lay between them. "Your body has been through a terrible ordeal. The Doctor has made it very clear you need to rest in order for your nervous system to recover. That means you, in your quarters, not picking up anything heavier than a PADD until the EMH says otherwise."

"I'm half-Klingon!" she protested. "I've been resting for the last two days! I don't need more time off. He's treating me like I'm human."

Chakotay ran a hand through his close cropped hair. "I'm pretty sure the Doctor is aware of your hybrid genetics, B'Elanna. And it's not just your physical recovery I'm concerned about." When the engineer only played with her utensils in silence, he continued. "How are things with you and Tom?"

"Fine." If you counted 'had a huge fight and aren't currently speaking to each other' as fine.

"Then why did he ask me to talk to you, do you think?"

Her head snapped up. _The cowardly son of a bitch._ "Tom asked you to talk to me?" It came out as more of a growl than intelligible words.

Chakotay gave her the little frown of disappointment he always did when she got a little too Klingon for his taste. "He thought maybe you'd be more open to sharing your feelings with me instead of him. That maybe you're still too angry at him for going against your wishes to talk."

"Fucking _petaQ_ ," she muttered to the rapidly cooling eggs that still sat in front of her.

"It sounds like Tom may have a point." He sighed again. "He's just worried about you. We all are. That you're not really dealing with what happened to you. That you just want to jump back into work like it was nothing. Especially given your tendencies towards self-harm-"

"I'm so glad everyone is discussing my mental state behind my back," she snarled, dropping her fork with a clatter as she stood. "This has _nothing_ to do with what happened after the Maquis. If you're worried that I'm angry, then yes - I'm angry! I was forced, against my will, to get a treatment I ethically objected to. I have every right to be angry!"

"I agree."

"Then what the hell is this about?" she demanded. She hated how calm he was. What happened to the Maquis Mauler? The most feared terrorist in the Alpha Quadrant? Sometimes it felt like Janeway had had him neutered the day he accepted the job as first officer.

"It's about me reminding you that you have a safe place to talk through your anger. That you don't have to hide it or bury it away. That I'm here to help you."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes before heading for the door. "Trust me, Chakotay. I'm an old pro at being angry. I don't need help - yours or anyone else's." She left without waiting for his response.

She was halfway to the turbolift when her right leg suddenly buckled, nearly sending her to the floor. "Shit," she muttered as she braced herself against the bulkhead in order to stay upright. She closed her eyes and breathed through the painful muscle spasms in her quadriceps, praying to Kahless or whoever else might be listening that Chakotay wouldn't leave his quarters before the cramping stopped.

Fortunately, the corridor remained deserted as her thigh muscles recovered enough for her to hobble onto the 'lift. "Deck Nine," she barked. Back to her quarters to _rest_ she supposed. There was no point in going to Sickbay, after all. The Doctor would just subject her to another lecture on getting adequate rest, that there was no shortcut to recovery and no way to accelerate the re-myelination of the affected nerves, that overexertion only made things worse.

It was all so ludicrous. No matter what Chakotay said, she was convinced the overbearing hologram wasn't taking her Klingon side into account. She'd been injured dozens of times since coming aboard _Voyager_ and always recovered in half the time her human crewmates would. That insane isomorph from Seros had actually punctured one of the chambers of her heart, and it certainly hadn't affected her activities with Tom later that same day. Hell, if you didn't count those macroviruses that had taken over the ship that one time, she hadn't even been sick since she was four. So she damn well wasn't going to let a single giant life-sucking bug slow her down now. Her leg had even stopped cramping.

"Computer, alter destination. Take me to Engineering."


	2. Chapter 2

B'Elanna hissed with pain as soon as the door to her quarters slid shut. She felt like someone had put her spine in a vise and had been steadily tightening it over the ten minute walk between Engineering and her quarters. She replicated a dose of the anti-inflammatory that the Doctor had authorized and hoped it would be enough. The last thing she wanted right now was to go to Sickbay - her medical leave was supposed to officially end as of five hours from now. The Doctor had been satisfied with her check-up this afternoon and said she could resume light duty the following morning.

"I'm pleased, Lieutenant, that you've decided to follow my recommendations so closely," the Doctor had remarked when he had finished his exam. "Although I do admit to a certain amount of surprise at this sudden compliant attitude." He regarded his tricorder again. "You're not having any more symptoms at all? No pain? Weakness? No numbness or tingling in your extremities?"

"Don't you think I would've said so?" she grumped, waving at his equipment. "Wouldn't your endless scans show something if I was?" They would, right? If there was a significant issue? Of course it would show up. The Doctor was nothing if not thorough.

"My scans can really only detect the level of re-myelination. Which is adequate, given the time span. But the individual response to demyelination can be quite variable. It's what makes neurology a particularly tricky area…"

B'Elanna had tuned out the rest of his lecture. The take-home message, as far as she could tell, had been that she was recovering on schedule - despite all his dire warnings about getting enough rest. Because what the EMH didn't know was that B'Elanna's "sudden compliant attitude" was all an act. After that talking-to she'd gotten from Chakotay, she'd decided it was best for everyone involved if she was a bit more surreptitious about her activity level.

So for the last three days, during alpha and beta, she'd stay in quarters like a good little Klingon - eating whatever meals Neelix brought by, doing nothing more strenuous than reviewing reports and diagnostics, going to her medical exams as directed. Then, once gamma hit and she was sure Chakotay and Tom were all bedded down for the night, she'd head for Engineering for an hour or six to get some real work done. With Carey covering for her during the day, gamma crew was entirely populated by techs and the candy-assed Ensign Weaver, who found her so terrifying he would hesitate to bother her even if the warp core was on fire. In other words, no one that would rat her out to the Doctor.

And she was doing fine, just as she had predicted. Her back had started to hurt the last hour or so, sure; but that was nothing. It was feeling better already. She made her way slowly to the head and leaned against the wall as the ions of her sonic shower swept away the day's dirt and grime. Once clean, she got dressed and eased her way into bed with a pang of longing. Her back did feel better - but that didn't mean one of Tom's deep, slow massages wouldn't feel good right now.

She dug a small stuffed targ out from the beat-up canvas bag she kept beneath her bedside table. The toy was no bigger than a largish eggplant, its fur dull brown and matted from age and abuse. She curled her arms around it, contemplating how empty the other half of her bed felt. Tom. God, she missed that idiot. They hadn't seen each other in days. B'Elanna had to admit she was at least partly to blame.

It took some pressing, but after she first regained consciousness, the Doctor had revealed how it had come about that she'd received a treatment she'd expressly refused. He'd stressed that Janeway had made the final call, but it was clear Tom had argued in favor of using the Moset hologram, despite what she'd told him she wanted. Only the threat of sedation had allowed her to hold onto a semblance of calm when she realized what had been done to her.

The Doctor had banned her from receiving visitors in Sickbay, fearful of her reaction. (B'Elanna could hardly argue with this directive given she spent most of her awake hours that first day trying to decide who, or what, she wanted to hit the most.) But she found Tom hovering in the corridor as soon as she was released, where he immediately launched into an apology.

"B'Elanna. I'm sorry. I know you didn't want the Moset hologram working on you, but-"

"Forget it," she broke in. "I've been informed the captain is taking full responsibility for blatantly ignoring my wishes, anyway." She forced her still shaky legs down the corridor towards the lift, not bothering to see if he was going to follow.

"Will you wait?" Tom pleaded, jumping into the 'lift just as the doors closed. "Deck Nine," he said when B'Elanna remained silent.

"I was going to check in with Engineering." She kept her eyes locked on the closed doors.

"You're supposed to be resting."

He was so goddamn patronizing. Give someone a year of nurse training and he's suddenly a fucking medical expert. She blew out a short huff of air. "I've been flat on my back for days. I'm supposed to be doing my job."

"You nearly died, B'Elanna," he said, his tone starting to match hers. "I don't think getting your entire cardiovascular system hijacked by a giant parasite counts as restful."

The door slid open at her deck. An ensign from Sciences stood in the corridor, glancing back and forth between the two lieutenants.

"Of course!" B'Elanna exclaimed, refusing to step foot off the 'lift. "How could I forget that you know what's best for me better than I do? What was I thinking, having an opinion about my own body?" She gestured at the terrified officer that had remained standing the in the corridor. "Maybe we should take a vote? What do you say, Boruya?"

"I...uh… I think I'll find another lift," the hapless geologist stammered, turning on his heel and speed-walking down the hallway.

"Nice," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "This should be all over the ship by dinner." He blew out a long breath. "Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just don't want you to overdo it because you want to prove a point. If you really want to go to Engineering, fine. Just take it easy, OK?"

His reasoned and placatory response infuriated her. She hated it when Tom did this - when he stayed calm when she got angry, when his volume dropped as hers rose. _Why won't he fight with me?_ She stormed off the 'lift as well as her wobbly legs allowed. "No. You win," she snapped as she turned back to face him. "I'll go to my quarters on one condition - you stay the hell out of them!" She hit the 'lift control to shut the door before he could get out another word.

They hadn't spoken since.

Tom had sent her a couple of messages, apologizing again for going against her wishes and asking for a chance to explain. Still angry, she'd ignored them - no doubt prompting Chakotay's attempt at intervention. But tonight, lying in her bed wishing she had something more substantial than a plush toy to hold in her arms, she realized she was being a bit unfair to him.

Janeway had been ready to let the Mari fry her brain in the interest of keeping the peace, but God forbid her chief engineer make a decision for her own health and body that might affect ship's functioning. But B'Elanna knew very well that wasn't where Tom was coming from. Just as he'd been ready to lead a raid on the Mari holding facility to break her out, he'd countered her very clearly expressed health directive in an attempt to keep her safe. As much as she resented his interference, she couldn't fault his motivation.

If only she could think of a way to put it behind them - move past the latest roadblock in their relationship. But Tom wasn't even going to be on the ship for the next couple of days, as he was taking a shuttle to a nearby asteroid belt to scan for boridium. An idea suddenly occurring to her, B'Elanna threw the stuffed toy to the side and climbed out of bed, pausing to shake a cramp out of her calf. She limped over to her small desk and called up the Engineering department updates from the day. A quick scan confirmed that Vorik was the engineer assigned to accompany the chief helm officer on his mission. _That's easy enough to fix_ , she thought with a smirk and a few quick taps.

B'Elanna straightened from her console and her gaze stopped on the little targ that had landed upright and nestled amongst her bedclothes, one beady glass eye trained on her. "Don't look at me like that," she said, as she returned him to her kit bag. "This is a great idea."


	3. Chapter 3

B'Elanna grinned as she passed through the aft hatch of the _Sacajawea_. The _Flyer_ was getting a refit, so they were stuck taking the smaller shuttle to the belt. Not much fun if one was trapped with a Vulcan for two days, but she and Tom never minded the occasional close quarters.

He was deeply engaged in the pre-flight - as casual as he liked to appear about most of his duties, he always did shuttle pre-flight checks with an almost obsessive intensity. It had surprised her, years ago, when they went on their first away mission together. An early clue that there was more to the pilot than his lothario reputation and devil-may-care facade. "Need a hand?" B'Elanna called out.

His head popped up, his brows drawn together in confusion, but with a smile on his face nonetheless. "Hi," Tom said as he rose to standing. "This is a nice surprise. Come to see me off?"

She smiled back at him, lifting her bag up to eye level. "Not exactly."

His smile faded. "B'Elanna-"

"Before you say anything," she interjected, stepping towards him. "The Doctor cleared me for duty starting today." It wasn't a total lie.

"But an away mission?" Tom's eyes searched hers. "That's kind of jumping in with both feet, don't you think? He doesn't want you to ease back into things?"

"What could be safer than an away mission with the ship's best medic?" she asked, brushing past him to stow her gear. "He probably assumes you'll do a better job making me take it easy than any of my engineers." She could feel Tom's eyes on her, studying her - watching for any stiffness to her movements or fine tremors in her limbs.

"I don't know about this, B'Elanna," he said, his voice tentative. He was probably afraid of pissing her off again. "Did you ask the Doc specifically about an away mission? He's been pretty concerned about-"

"Are you serious, Tom?" She whipped around to face him. This strategy was a gamble, but if he didn't call her bluff... "You actually think I didn't ask the Doctor if this mission was OK? Do you not trust me at all?" She reached down to pick up her bag again. "Fine, call him if you want to - if he's the only one you'll believe. I'll tell Vorik he can go after all."

"No!" Tom stepped forward, taking the bag from her and putting it back in the hold. "No. I don't need to call him. I trust you. Really. I've just been worried about you, is all. This one was a little too close, B'Elanna."

She let her expression soften at the love and concern in his eyes and smiled at him. "I know. And I'm sorry I've been ignoring your messages. I needed some time." She placed her hand on his chest. "And while I'm not saying I'm OK with you going against what I wanted, I know your heart was in the right place."

Tom stroked her jaw gently with his hand. "I'm just glad you're all right now." He let out a small chuckle. "And that you're talking to me again."

B'Elanna grinned back. "Me, too. Which is why I wanted us to go on this mission together. So we can have some time alone together. Put this behind us." She squeezed the hand that now rested lightly against her neck. "So what do you say we blow this icicle stand?"

"Popsicle stand," he corrected with a laugh. "Let me just finish the pre-flight, and we'll be on our way."

Thirty minutes later, they were well into their trip to the asteroid belt and Tom's description of a new Proton story line. B'Elanna relaxed into the co-pilot seat, trying to ignore a lingering twinge in her lower back. _I got away with it_ , she thought with relief. They'd left early enough that neither Chakotay nor the Doctor had caught her last minute personnel switch and now it was too late for them to do anything about it. Tom, she was sure, would see the humor of the situation once he found out; would be amused that she'd managed to put one over on the pompous EMH. He'd probably be touched, really, that she risked a dressing down just to spend some time with him.

"Uh-oh," Tom said suddenly when an alert sounded on the console. "Looks like _Voyager_ is hailing us. Something must be wrong." He reached over to activate the comm system.

 _Shit_. B'Elanna buried her hands under her thighs to stop herself from slapping his hands away from the console.

"Paris here. Go ahead, _Voyager_."

The Doctor's face suddenly filled the comm monitor. His displeasure was obvious.

"Really, Mr. Paris. I'd expect Lieutenant Torres to have a cavalier attitude about her health, but I would think _you_ , at least, would be a bit more concerned about her well-being. Being authorized for light duty hardly means she should be gallivanting around an asteroid belt for two days!"

B'Elanna watched the confusion and then a sudden comprehension play across the pilot's features as he processed what the Doctor was saying. She directed her gaze out the viewscreen and watched the distorted stars as they flew past.

"Sorry, Doc," he replied after a moment, his tone carrying a lightness that B'Elanna recognized as patently false. "You know me. I'll let a pretty face talk me into just about anything. But I'll keep her out of trouble. I promise."

The EMH snorted. "You can't even keep yourself out of trouble, Mr. Paris, so you'll forgive my skepticism. Lieutenant Torres?"

B'Elanna's eyes turned to the monitor at the sound of her name. Getting reamed out by the irritated hologram would be easier than seeing the hurt in Tom's eyes, anyway. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I realize it's too late for you to turn back, but I will be informing Commander Chakotay of this. And I expect you to report for a full exam immediately upon your return."

"Yes, Doctor."

" _Voyager_ out," the hologram said with a final sniff, and the monitor went dark.

"You didn't have to do that," B'Elanna said quietly, watching the sensor readouts play across her screen. "You didn't have to cover for me. I'm a big girl - I could have handled it."

"Forget it," Tom said, his hands adjusting the navigational controls to put the shuttle on auto-pilot. "If it wasn't this, he'd find something else to be pissed at me about. He always does." He stood, looking towards the aft section of the shuttle. "We won't be at the belt for another ninety minutes, and I've got some reports to work on. Keep an eye on things?"

"Sure," she murmured as she watched him walk away.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom returned to the pilot's seat several minutes before they neared the belt.

"I was going to call you," B'Elanna asserted. He hadn't said a word to her since he'd left the cockpit. Now he wasn't even looking at her. What was the big deal? So she had stretched the truth a little. It's not like he was the paragon of the compliant patient. And she had done it just to get some time alone with him, for God's sake!

"I didn't need you to," he said simply, his eyes directed solely at the shuttle's controls. "I had an alarm set."

B'Elanna bit the inside of her cheek, wanting to avoid a fight. Her leg started to bounce as Tom continued to work in silence. "Why don't you just yell at me and get it over with, instead of acting like a sulky child?" she finally blurted out, unable to take another second of quiet.

His fingers stabbed at the controls. "That's pretty rich, coming from you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Refusing to speak to me for days?" Tom countered. "Lying about being cleared for an away mission?"

"I didn't lie!" _Not exactly, anyway._

Tom just looked at her with an eyebrow raise that would have made Tuvok envious.

"I just… didn't tell you everything." She threw herself back into her seat, arms tightly crossed. "What? You wanted some alone time with Vorik?"

"That's not the point and you know it." He gripped the edges of his console before rounding on her. "What the hell is this about, B'Elanna? Are you just trying to demonstrate how little you care what I think?"

She glared back at him. She'd done all of this - risked a dressing down from Chakotay, evaded the Doctor - just to try to help their relationship. "I did this so we could spend some time together! So we could move past this! Clearly I shouldn't have bothered."

"Seeing as 'this' meant lying to me and risking your health - again - no. You really shouldn't have."

B'Elanna threw her arms in the air as she turned her chair to face him. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine! The Doctor is being overprotective. _You're_ being overprotective. I don't need people to tell me how to take care of myself!"

He glared right back at her. "Oh, you've made that crystal clear, Lieutenant. You don't need me, you don't need-" Tom's eyes narrowed, looking past her now. "What's that?"

B'Elanna turned slowly back to her console, still fuming too much to immediately comprehend the concern in his voice. "What's wha-? Ah, fuck. Where the hell did that come from?" She started tapping commands into the sensor panel, pulling up more detailed readings from the space around them. "There's a massive graviton wave coming up fast on our port side, currently at coordinates seven oh four three. Bringing shields online."

Tom was all focus now, eyes locked on the navigational console. "Instituting evasive pattern Delta Five."

B'Elanna scanned the readings, her heart beating faster with each subsequent bit of data she processed. "It's too big - you'll never be able to get around it. Go to warp and get us out of here!"

"Can't." His fingers flew across the controls, his tone clipped. "Too close to the belt. I need more power to impulse."

"Acknowledged." She twisted around to access the engineering controls, but her stomachs dropped when she noted her left hand was slow to respond. _Not now, damn it!_ She squeezed it into a weak fist, then extended the fingers, hoping the movement would encourage her brain to start talking to her lagging hand. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , she thought as her right one took on double duty.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Tom urged the shuttle in a low chant, trying to keep the small craft ahead of the event horizon, trying to use force of will to make the vessel move faster. "I need that power, B'Elanna! Now!"

But there wasn't time. Later, she would consider that there may not have been enough time even if her left hand hadn't cramped. That even with the extra power, Tom may not have been able to avoid the impact of the wave. But in that moment, all she could think was that her fucking useless hand had just gotten them killed.

"Brace for impact!"


	5. Chapter 5

"B'Elanna?"

 _Tom? Why does he sound worried? Isn't he mad at me? Aren't we having a fight?_

"B'Elanna, can you hear me?" A tense pause. A gentle shake of her shoulders. "Come on, B'Elanna. Open your eyes."

 _The graviton wave_. B'Elanna's eyes flew open and she immediately went to sit up.

Only to feel Tom try to push her back to the deck. "Easy. You got banged around pretty hard. Take a few minutes."

B'Elanna pushed his hands aside and sat the rest of the way up, moving more slowly this time. She didn't object, however, when he moved one hand to her back and rubbed a slow circle. His blue eyes were bright with worry. "I'm fine," she said curtly, taking a breath against a sudden wave of nausea. She gave the pilot a quick once-over - disheveled, one small cut over his left eye, but, for the most part, intact. "What happened? I thought… Weren't we on a collision course with that wave?"

Tom rocked back on his heels, removing his hand from her as he did so. B'Elanna discarded the brief moment of loss she felt. "We were," he replied. "But I managed to get us just past the leading edge. We got clipped pretty hard, though, on the port side. We've lost warp, impulse, and there's a decent sized external fracture in the hull. Lucky for us," he paused to grin at B'Elanna's skeptical look, "one of the asteroids at the edge of the belt was large enough to have a class P atmosphere and I was able to use thrusters to get us down in one piece." He looked around the darkened shuttle, with its venting conduits and the sparks being thrown from the sensor console. "More or less."

An image of her weak and cramping hand flashed through her brain. "You needed more power to impulse. Did I give it to you in time?"

Tom's brow furrowed and he gave her a concerned smile. "Um...I don't know, honestly. Maybe? Things were happening pretty fast. I was mostly just reacting."

He was lying to her. She could tell - the way his eyes shifted away from hers, the way his hands busied themselves with the medkit lying next to him. She hadn't finished making the transfer in time, and Tom didn't think she could handle hearing about it. It made B'Elanna want to grab him by the collar and shake him, demand he admit to lying.

But that wasn't going to get the shuttle fixed. "We should get to work," she said. "A class P atmosphere is not going to be comfortable for long. Did you-" She interrupted herself with a hiss of pain as she tried to stand. "Shit," she breathed out, as Tom grabbed her arm and eased her back to sitting.

" _I_ should get to work," Tom said. "You should sit here and rest. My scan shows that you still have nerves that haven't fully re-myelinated, plus you've got a nasty cut on your right leg I still need to regenerate."

 _I do?_ B'Elanna looked down at her calf to see her pant leg soaked in blood. She couldn't even feel it beyond a vague tingling. _I've worked through worse._ "Forget the cut. We don't have time to waste on regenerating it. I'll just wrap it up. We've got to take care of that hull fracture."

Tom snorted. "You're not going outside in this. It's like negative thirty out there and you can barely handle the temp in my quarters without an extra blanket. Besides, the Doctor said-"

B'Elanna slammed her fist into the deck plating. "Well, the Doctor's not fucking here, is he? How many ways can I tell you this? I am fine. I've _been_ fine for days. I don't need you to treat me like I'm made of glass, I don't need to rest, and I sure as hell don't need you hovering around me playing nursemaid! We need to get off this fucking rock, and that means fixing the hull. So let's go!"

Tom stared at her for a moment - jaw clenched, short breaths from his nose - before rising and glaring down at where she still sat on the floor. "If you don't need me playing nursemaid, how about senior officer on this mission?" He walked to the aft section and yanked out a set of thermal gear from the hold. "Consider yourself ordered to stay inside, Lieutenant. If you choose to ignore that order, I'll put you on report when we're back on _Voyager_."

B'Elanna stood then too, hands clenched in tight fists, nails digging into her palms. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." Tom didn't say another word as he finished gearing up for the asteroid's harsh environs and headed outside to make repairs.


	6. Chapter 6

"Damn it!" B'Elanna threw yet another spent isolinear chip to the deck. By now, she should be nearly done with the internal repairs. Instead, she'd been working for over two hours and she'd barely made a dent in what needed to be fixed. Probably because she felt like ass. It was like she was moving underwater. Not to mention the nausea - she'd initially hoped it was a brief side effect of the knocking around she'd taken when the shuttle had been hit, but it seemed to be getting worse instead of better. She kicked the ration bar she'd tried to eat across the floor. Even the sight of it was making her stomachs churn.

B'Elanna rested her throbbing skull against the bulkhead. No way was she going to admit it to Tom or the Doctor, but she was beginning to realize she wasn't recovered enough to go on this mission, after all. Although the mission wasn't exactly the problem. If it had gone as planned - if they hadn't run into that fucking graviton wave, she'd be fine right now and no one would have been the wiser.

 _Except that you did run into one. And you were too slow._

She took a deep breath and pushed the thought aside. Dwelling on her sluggish reaction time wasn't going to fix the _Sacajawea_ 's electrical system. _And neither are these fucking dead chips._ The engineer needed to retrieve a new box of replacement circuits - which meant making her way to the other side of the shuttle. B'Elanna glanced at the aft hatch as she gathered the energy to get back on her feet.

Tom was still out there.

He'd come in to warm up every twenty minutes or so, his hands having grown numb even with the heavy gloves that came with the standard 'Fleet thermal gear. He'd ask her what the status of the internal repairs were, do a job or two that could be completed quickly without interfering with her own work, and return to the hull repairs outside. All without having said more than a dozen words to her.

B'Elanna wasn't sure how her simple plan had gone so wrong. This was supposed to be a bit of fun for them - time to reconnect after their latest relationship crisis. Tom had finally started to treat her normally again after her depression - had stopped acting like she was some kind of bomb that might go off if not handled carefully enough. But now, because of that stupid space bug, he was back to coddling her. Constantly asking how she was feeling, if she needed anything, telling her to rest. It was infuriating. Did he think she was an imbecile or a child - that she didn't even know how to take care of herself?

A sudden shiver ran through her. _What the hell?_ She'd already fixed the damn environmental systems - why was it still so cold in here? She told the computer to up the temp by another five degrees and slowly rose to standing, surprised at how difficult it was. She'd had some issues with muscle cramps and intermittent weakness in her legs, particularly the right, since the giant parasite had attacked her; this was different. Her whole body just _ached_. _Great_ , she thought, _I can't wait to hear the Doctor's response when I tell him I have new symptoms._

Frustrated by how crappy she felt and how much work she had left to do, she decided there was at least one thing she was going to fix as soon as possible - this latest fight with Tom. She couldn't do much more to save their official mission, but she could still salvage her personal one. She just had to make him understand how and why he was being ridiculous. OK, maybe they were both being ridiculous. But this time, B'Elanna decided as she grabbed a blanket from the medkit and wrapped it around herself, she would make the first move. She was fully capable of being the bigger person. The engineer situated herself back at the fried control panel with her new box of replacement circuits and came up with a plan of action. First, she would apologize for stretching the truth about being released for duty. Then, she would calmly explain to Tom that, while his concern was appreciated, it was irritating the fuck out of her.

"Man, it's like a sauna in here."

B'Elanna jumped at the sudden voice, as well as the spark that was emitted when she misaligned her hyperspanner. She'd been so involved in her repairs and her mental rehearsal of her apology that she hadn't even heard the hatch open. "Damn it!" she snapped, shaking her now stinging hand. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he said, his voice short as he turned away from her.

B'Elanna felt an immediate pang of remorse. Tom was probably exhausted. Not that the interior repairs were exactly a holiday, but fixing the outer hull was particularly back-breaking work, even with the reduced gravity of the asteroid. Having to do it alone and in subzero temperatures didn't make it any easier, and he'd been out there for hours. _This apology is off to a great start._

"No," she said, her voice softening. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

He sat down heavily on one of the shuttle's benches and pulled open his jacket. "It's OK. I guess we're both kind of on edge." He ran a hand through his hair, dark with sweat despite the frigid air in which he'd been working. "Seriously, though - why is it so hot? The environmental controls still on the fritz?"

B'Elanna couldn't explain why his comment grated so much. Maybe it was because even with the blanket wrapped around her, her whole body felt like it had been buried in ice. At any rate, still focused on the idea of reconciling by the time they got back to _Voyager_ , she kept her response to a decidedly civil, "It's not hot in here. It just feels warm because you've been outside. Are the repairs almost done?"

"Another hour, maybe. I just needed a water break and I'll go finish it off," Tom replied as he stood, shedding his outerwear entirely. "But it's definitely hot in here." He made his way to a flickering sensor console. "See? If this thing is right, it's nearly thirty-five."

"Will you stop talking about the-" B'Elanna interrupted herself with a gasp, her body suddenly shivering so fiercely she dropped the hyperspanner in her hand.

"B'Elanna?" Tom dropped to the floor beside her, his hands gentle on her shoulders. He reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear when he drew back as if bitten, adjusting until the back of his hand rested against her ridges. "Shit - you're burning up. How long have you felt sick? Why didn't you say something?"

 _Again with the coddling!_ "I'm not sick, I'm just-" Unfortunately, her stomachs chose this exact moment to try to escape her abdomen by way of her esophagus. She clamped a hand over her mouth and bent over double. She closed her eyes and concentrated on keeping her gastric mucosa where it was.

Within seconds, she heard the whine of a tricorder wand buzzing around her head, only compounding the pain that was already there. "B'Elanna? Sweetheart?"

 _Sweetheart?_

"Can you straighten your right leg for me? I need to look at something."

Tom's voice sounded strange - like it was fading in and out over a crappy comm system. B'Elanna shook her head in an attempt to clear it and immediately regretted the action when a sharp pain bloomed behind her eyes. _What did he want me to do?_ "My leg?"

"Yeah, just straighten it out a little bit. I'll help you." His voice was gentle, as was his hand when he placed it on her calf.

That didn't change the fact that his touch made it feel like he'd set her leg on fire. B'Elanna bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out.

"Shit." Tom had barely whispered the curse. He pitched his voice a bit louder when he spoke again. "I'm going to cut your pant leg a little, OK? I need to get a better look at that cut."

It was badly infected, he told her a few minutes later, after he'd pressed a series of hyposprays to her neck and her head began to clear. "You're septic. The meds I just gave you will keep it at bay for a little while, but we need to get you back to the Doc. He'll need to surgically debride the wound and get you on an antibiotic infusion for a couple of days."

"Great," B'Elanna muttered as she leaned back against the bulkhead. She was feeling better, but she sure as hell didn't feel good. "Two more days in Sickbay. Just what I wanted." She sat up with a lurch, suddenly suspicious that Tom had just come up with an excuse to keep her down. "How is this even possible? I've been in the shuttle this whole time! Klingons don't get wound infections. The Doctor once told me my immune system, and I quote, gives new meaning the word 'germ warfare.'"

"Well," Tom said, his eyes focused on the medkit he was repacking. "If you'd been listening to the Doctor more recently, you might have also heard him say that you're currently immunocompromised from what that alien did to you. Which is why I wanted to take care of the cut when it happened. You didn't even keep the bandage clean like I told you!"

 _He's_ scolding _me? Now?_ "Back off. I've been a little busy," she growled, throwing to the curb her earlier resolution to avoid a fight.

"Yeah?" He slammed the medkit closed. "Well, now you're going to go lie down on the bench and rest while I finish the rest of the repairs. So you'll have plenty of free time to contemplate what a pain in the ass you're being." He reached over to help her stand.

B'Elanna slapped his hands away. "I'm being?! All I've been doing is my job! Doing the repairs we need so we can get off this damn ice ball!"

Tom stood, his eyes shooting daggers at her. "Except that you shouldn't even be here, B'Elanna! You think I haven't noticed - how slow you've been moving? Normally you'd have this thing fixed in an hour. I'm not an idiot. You've been lying to the Doctor and you've been lying to me."

It took just about every iota of strength she had in her arms to haul herself upright, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let Tom yell while he loomed over her like that. "Can you blame me? All you've been doing is hovering around me! Telling me what do! All of you - you, the Doctor, Chakotay! Go back to your quarters, B'Elanna! Go lie down, B'Elanna! Get a treatment from a man who tortured thousands of innocent people, B'Elanna!"

"It was a fucking hologram!"

"A hologram that used research from a sadistic butcher! That matters, Tom!"

He turned away from her, his shoulders dropping. "I'm sorry if I think you matter more."

"No," B'Elanna said, grabbing his arm to stop him from moving away. "You don't get to do that. You don't get act like your feelings matter more than mine!"

Tom had stopped but still wouldn't look at her. "I'm beginning to think _my_ feelings don't matter at all, as far as you're concerned."

B'Elanna dropped his arm. "Oh, for God's sake, Tom. Grow up. This is _my_ health we're talking about! _My_ body! Stop acting like I'm some damsel in distress that needs your protection. I don't need you tell me to rest, or to take care of me, and I sure as hell don't need you to make major life decisions for me! I don't need any of that from you!"

He stared back at her now, his face blotchy and red - in anger or because of the stifling heat of the shuttle or maybe some combination. When he spoke, though, his tone was low and cold. "Yeah, I've been made well aware of how little you need me. But has it ever occurred to you that I've been doing all this because _I_ need _you_?"

"Don't you have hull repairs to finish?" she asked, her tone matching his. B'Elanna wouldn't let him do this. She wouldn't let this be all about him. She had every right to reject treatment if she wanted to. So what if she had died? Yes, he would have grieved for a while. And then he would have moved on and he would have been just fine. _It was my fucking decision to make!_

"That's all you have to say?" Tom asked. She wondered if she imagined the crack in his voice.

"Will you go, Tom?" she snapped, sitting back down with her circuits and ignoring the deep pain in her leg as she folded it under herself. "Finish the damn hull!" She could feel him still standing there, so she whipped her head around for one more glare. "Why won't you just leave?"

So he did.


	7. Chapter 7

_The only light in the room was dim and golden - the bronze luminary in which it was enclosed casting odd-shaped shadows that loomed large on the textured walls. The simple tinny notes of a music box cycled over and over._

 _Daddy?_

 _A gentle hand caressed her hair._

 _I'm here, B'Elanna._

 _I don't feel good._

 _I know, Little Bee. It'll be OK. Here's Toby._

 _She clutched at the toy, burying her face into his soft pelt. Then it hit - suddenly and without warning. An overwhelming need to empty both of her stomachs as quickly as possible. There was no time - no time to ask for the bucket, no time to aim her face away from the bedclothes, or Toby, or her father._

 _Toby!_

 _Oh God, it's everywhere. Miral!_

 _Daddy? I'm gonna be sick._

 _Again? Miral! Where are you?!_

 _I want Toby!_

 _You can't have him! He's covered in throw up!_

 _Don't yell at me! I didn't want to be sick! It's not my fault!_

 _The light flickered and the shadows changed, mutating into trees that towered around her. The music changed to a song of frogs and crickets. Moonlight illuminated her father's face - cold and remote._

 _You have to learn to be a little less sensitive, B'Elanna._

 _You're just like everyone else! You don't like Klingons!_

 _You're twisting my words, B'Elanna!_

 _Why don't you just leave?_

B'Elanna jerked awake from where she'd passed out on the decking, her stomachs roiling. She tried to sit up, but could only manage to push herself onto her side. Then she erupted - bile, water, bits of ration bar. "Oh, God." She barely had the energy to push her face away from the vomitus.

Her body shivered even though she was covered in sweat. She looked around the dim shuttle. "Tom?" Where was he? Shouldn't he be done with the hull repairs by now? She spotted the blanket a half-meter away and managed to get to her knees, wanting nothing more than to find something, anything, that might make her feel warm again. But before she could get there, she felt her gut clench and she vomited again. "Shit." Her arms gave out and she fell back to the floor.

"Tom?" she tried again, alarming herself with how weak her voice sounded. He was just going to fix the hull and come back, right? A memory of shouting flickered into focus. _Why won't you just leave?_ Why had she said that to him? Was he not going to come back? Had he abandoned her, alone and sick, on this frozen rock? "Tom!"

B'Elanna retched again and again, her stomachs too empty to produce anything but foamy bile and spit and flecks of blood. Her thoughts swirled as she moaned, alone, curled in a ball, desperate for anything to relieve her distress. She'd done it again. She'd chased him away. "I'm sorry," she groaned to the metal plating below her. "I'm sorry."

A rush of air swept over her, sending to new heights the sharp chill that seemed to permeate every centimeter of her body. B'Elanna cried out before she could stop herself.

"Sorry. That took longer than-" A sudden clatter of equipment falling to the deck. Footsteps moving closer. "Fuck. B'Elanna? Hey, B'Elanna?"

A warm hand cupped the back of her head. B'Elanna wasn't sure if she had ever felt a touch so welcome. "I'm sick," she whispered.

A gentle breath hit her face as Tom gave a near-silent laugh. "I can see that," he replied, his voice soft and kind. "Let's get you off this cold floor, OK?"

She tried to push herself up, but Tom quickly wrapped his arms around her. "Easy, now. You don't have to move. I'll do it. I've got you." He tucked an arm under her knees, careful not to jostle her still painful and now swollen leg, and lifted her off the decking. It occurred to her to struggle, to insist she could get up herself. But, for once, she didn't want to. Instead, she let her head drop against Tom's warm shoulder, nestling herself deeper into his arms.

He lay her on the bench of the shuttle and pulled away. "Tom?" she said, part of her panicking at the loss of contact, another part cursing herself for her need.

A gentle kiss was placed on her temple. "It's OK. I'll be right back."

She moaned and curled into herself as another wave of nausea hit her. There was a rustle of fabric and more footsteps. "Sit up a little, B'Elanna. Come on, I'll help you." Tom wrapped her in the blanket she'd lost on the floor and helped her lie back down before pressing a hypospray to her neck. "That should help with the fever. I'm going to give you another one for the vomiting."

He wasn't quick enough. She tried to sit up, to aim her face towards the floor as she felt the tell-tale convulsions of her stomach begin again, but she wasn't quick enough either.

"Oh, God," she moaned in dismay, regarding the former contents of her stomach that were now spotting the front of Tom's uniform. "I'm sorry."

Tom just smiled at her, and brushed the sweaty hair from her forehead. "It's just a little vomit, B'Elanna. I'll live." He pressed the second hypospray to her neck and went back to stroking her hair. "This is nothing. Haven't I ever told you about the time Chell decided to try out Neelix's Talaxian moonshine? It gave new meaning to the term 'rotgut.'" His nose wrinkled. "On second thought, maybe I should save that story for when you're a little further along the road to recovery." He kissed her ridges. "I'm going to get you some clean clothes to change into. Don't move, OK?"

Not a problem, as far as she was concerned. B'Elanna sank as far into the bench as she could, closing her eyes against the improving but still present nausea and a bone-deep ache. She groaned again when she thought of the repairs she still had to do. At least if Tom was done with the hull, she could share some of the work.

When he came back this time, Tom had a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" B'Elanna grumbled, her head still pounding.

"I'll tell you when you're feeling better," he replied, his eyes merry. "For now, let's get you cleaned up."

It should have been humiliating - how B'Elanna needed him to help her sit up, to peel off her damp and vomit-stained uniform like she was nothing more than one of Naomi's dolls. But somehow - the way he murmured reassuring words when her teeth chattered with the fever-induced chill, the way he dropped tender kisses on her hands and shoulders and knees before he covered them with fresh clothes - his actions turned out to be soothing, rather than irritating. They calmed her rather than caused her embarrassment.

"I thought you had left," she admitted, her face reddening with shame when she thought about her earlier negative assumptions.

"What are you talking about?" Tom's voice was soft as he wiped her face with a warm, damp cloth.

B'Elanna closed her eyes and sighed, leaning into his touch. "I thought you had left me alone. Because I yelled at you." _The really weird thing_ , B'Elanna thought to herself, _is_ _I feel like I should be saying this to someone else._

Tom chuckled quietly, tracing her ridges with languid strokes of his hand. "We're on an asteroid, B'Elanna. Where would I go?"

"I don't know," she muttered, annoyed with him for laughing at her and annoyed at herself because he had a point. "You didn't answer me when I called you. I called you over and over again, and you didn't come."

"You did? I didn't hear you." Tom slid an arm behind her back. "Sit back up for a minute. This will be a lot warmer - and cleaner - than that blanket." A pause as B'Elanna felt soft, silky fabric envelope her in comfort and warmth. It was his thermal jacket – the one he'd worn outside to repair the hull. "Maybe there's something wrong with my comm badge."

B'Elanna felt herself drifting off, inhaling Tom's familiar and comforting scent from the coat that still carried traces of his body heat. _Comm badge?_ "Oh," she said, her eyes blinking open again. "I should have hit my comm badge."

"That's one hell of a fever you've got there, Torres." He was laughing again. B'Elanna didn't mind so much, though. Tom had a nice laugh, really.

She remembered what else she had said, before he'd come back into the shuttle. "I'm sorry. For yelling at you. For not…"

"Shhh." Tom's voice was little more than a whisper in her ear now. "We'll talk later. Just sleep now, B'Elanna. Just rest. I'll be right here."


	8. Chapter 8

_Sunlight bathed the airy kitchen, bringing a honeyed burnish to the surface of the heavy wooden farm table that anchored the room. Pots bubbled on the cooktop and a rich voice sang._

 _Luna lunera, cascabelera._

 _She traced a whorl in the table's surface with her finger and sang along with the familiar words, watching the singer stir her pots._

 _I have a gift for you, Belleza_

 _Ve y dile a mi amorcito._

 _What is it?_

 _Your mother tells me it is a targ. It's Klingon._

 _Klingons don't have stuffed toys, Abuela!_

 _She sank her fingers into the thick chocolate brown fur and studied the toy's bristly face, its expression somehow wise and kind. A bent finger tucked a lock of hair behind her ear._

 _Well, then he is a little human and a little Klingon. Like you._

 _He's funny looking._

 _He is beautiful in his own way. Just like my Belleza._

 _Dile que se apiade de mi corazón._

 _Dile que se apiade de mi corazón._

 _B'Elanna?_

"B'Elanna?"

The spicy scent of ginger filled her nostrils, and B'Elanna felt a gentle hand stroking the angle of her jaw. Her eyes blinked open to see Tom regarding her with a soft smile.

"How you feeling?"

"Lousy," she groaned, letting her eyes close again. "Less lousy. But still lousy."

Tom got busy - shifting her limp frame and the extra blankets he'd given her while she slept and his coat that nearly swallowed her - until he was on the bench, too, and B'Elanna was sitting propped up against his chest with her head on his shoulder. "I brought you some ginger tea," he said. "It's what Barra always used to bring me when I had an upset stomach. Works wonders." She took the offered drink with both hands and Tom wrapped his own around them, steadying the cup at she sipped.

"Who's Barra?" she asked drowsily, relishing the feel of Tom's hands blanketing her own and how the tea's warmth radiated through her as she drank.

"Our housekeeper. Sort of nanny-slash-cook-slash-general corraler of the Paris brood, really."

"I can't say I'm surprised the vaunted Admiral Paris wasn't big into nursing his kids back to health." Tom snorted in reply. "But what about your mother?"

"Bodily fluids are definitely not her thing."

They sat there for a while in silence, B'Elanna sipping her tea and wondering what life had been like for the child Tom Paris, years younger than his sisters, no one but hired help to comfort him when he was sick.

"I appreciate you prioritizing the replicator," B'Elanna said after a time, gesturing with the mug. "But I guess we should finish getting this thing ready to fly."

"It's all done," Tom said with a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm just waiting for the navigational array to re-initialize. We've got another fifteen to twenty until lift-off, I'd say."

B'Elanna sat up, turning her head to look at him. "How long have I been asleep? You finished the repairs? All of them?"

Tom frowned with mock offense. "Hey, I'll have you know I'm a pretty competent engineering tech, when the occasion calls for it."

She eased back into him, taking another sip of the soothing tea. "It's not that. I just left a lot of work undone. So... thank you."

"You're welcome. You needed the rest." Another delicate kiss. "But there's something we need to discuss."

B'Elanna sighed inwardly. As little as she wanted to deal with it, she supposed he was right. They did have things they needed to talk out. She was still pretty pissed - that he'd gone against her wishes with Moset and argued for her to get a treatment he knew she didn't want. But she owed him an apology, too, she supposed - for lying to him to get on this mission. And for not considering his feelings when she chose possible, maybe even likely, death rather than use the Cardassian's research.

"You've been sharing your bed with someone else."

B'Elanna jerked upright at this, nearly spilling the rest of the tea. "Excuse me?"

The shit-eating grin was back. "Were you ever planning on introducing us?" He brought a small furry object up from where it had rested, until now unnoticed by B'Elanna, on the floor.

 _Damn it._

She put down her tea and snatched the little targ from him. Tom let out his breath in a short huff as B'Elanna let herself drop back hard against his chest. She ran through, and discarded, a dozen possible explanations that might make the toy's inclusion in her overnight bag sound rational. _I guess the truth it is._

"I've had him forever. My grandmother - my _abuela_ \- she gave him to me when I was little. It was the only Klingon toy she could find, I think." She thought of the scent of banana pancakes and _champurrado_ , the view of the mountains from her grandmother's porch. "I just… prefer to have him around at night. In the Maquis - you always had a bag ready. You never knew when you might need to leave in a hurry. Toby's always been in mine."

Tom aimed the targ's bewhiskered face until it was looking at him. "Well, then. Nice to meet you, Toby. Glad to finally make your acquaintance." In a whisper, directly into B'Elanna's ear: "So… does he approve? Of us, I mean?"

She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs as an answer. "Idiot." She squirmed a little, suddenly feeling antsy. They could just let it all go, she supposed. Just move on from their latest argument as they had done dozens of times before, without actually settling anything. It's not like a fight would change what had happened. If Tom wasn't going to broach the subject, why should she?

"I want to apologize," B'Elanna blurted out, glad she was facing away from him. "For lying to you this morning." She felt Tom stiffen behind her, his hands falling away from her sides.

"That's OK," he said, scooting back a little. "We don't need to talk about this right now. You should rest." He started to slide out from under her.

She put her hand out to stop him. "I think we should. Talk about this." He stilled behind her. "I'm also sorry for not… For not thinking about how you would feel. If I hadn't gotten treated. If I had…"

He got up then - carefully, making sure B'Elanna wouldn't fall against the bulkhead - but he wasn't letting her stop him this time. "We don't… Forget it. You don't need to apologize. We can just move on. You _did_ get treated and you're fine now, or you will be once we get you back to the Doc. Let's just forget it." He started to walk towards the cockpit.

"Forget it?" She sat up all the way on the bench, wanting to follow him but not sure she had the energy to stay on her feet unassisted. "What about all that stuff earlier? About how I don't think your feelings matter? How I act like I don't need you? You're just going to let all that go?"

He stopped then, his left hand on the back of the pilot's seat and his right clenching the back of his neck. The shuttle was silent other than the quiet whirring of the sensors coming back online.

"I was wrong."

B'Elanna cocked her head to one side. "You were wrong? About what?"

Tom turned back to face her. He swallowed before clearing his throat to speak. "I was wrong to go against your wishes. But even more… I was wrong in how I did it. In the meeting - the one when the captain decided to let the Doctor treat you. I might have… I mean, I _did_ imply you weren't mentally competent to make the call. That you were delusional, I guess, from what the parasite was doing to you."

B'Elanna's mouth went dry. "You did what?"

He looked away from her, starting to pace a tight circle. "I told myself that was the reason. That that could be the _only_ reason you wouldn't want treatment. I think I even believed it a little when I said it to the captain, but… I knew it wasn't true. Deep down I knew. That you understood what you were saying, that you were willing to die for your beliefs." He raised his eyes to hers, his voice hushed. "But I didn't care, B'Elanna. I knew how important it was to you, and I didn't care. And you know what's even worse? If I had to do it all over again? I wouldn't change a thing. I'd choose you living over your beliefs every single time."

B'Elanna's hands clenched into fists and her heart rate climbed. _What an arrogant bunch of bullshit. Fuck yeah, you were wrong!_ She swung her legs over the side of the bench, ready to confront him. Her legs might not be in the best shape at the moment, but B'Elanna was counting on her very reasonable anger to keep her upright.

Until she saw Tom's expression.

He'd sunk into the pilot's chair, the dim lights of the powered down console throwing deep shadows across his face. "What does that say about me? Why would you even want to be with someone like me?"

B'Elanna's chest and shoulders eased. She wasn't thrilled with what he had just revealed, but yelling at him right now would be about as satisfying as kicking a tribble. She hauled herself off the bench, having to shuffle towards the cockpit to accommodate the parka that was still wrapped tightly around her. "Because you gave me your coat."

Tom looked up, letting out a breath of a laugh. "It wasn't exactly a hardship, B'Elanna. You had the heat turned up hotter than Vulcan in here."

"That's not what I meant." She sat on the edge of the co-pilot's chair so that their knees touched. "I meant: all I've done today is mislead you, get you in trouble with the Doctor, yell at you. Not to mention the fact I've been ignoring you for days. But you were still there when I needed you, Tom. You still came back and took care of me - even after I pushed you away a dozen different ways."

He shook his head, swiveling away from her to look out the front viewscreen with its panorama of ice and rock and stars. "What else was I going to do?" he snorted. "Leave you lying in your own sick on the floor while I did the repairs around you?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "But you didn't have to help me get cleaned up, or finish all the repairs yourself while I slept, or make me tea. Or," she added, fingering the silky fabric wrapped around her, "find the warmest thing in the shuttle to wrap me up in." B'Elanna took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't… I don't like feeling weak, Tom. Or helpless. I don't like needing other people." _Because what if they die?_ she thought, hugging Toby to her chest under the folds of the coat. She pictured her grandmother's lined and loving face. _What if they go away?_ "But it wasn't so terrible - having you take care of me."

Tom started to fire up the console. "Maybe I can have that engraved on my tombstone. "'Thomas Eugene Paris - He wasn't so terrible.'"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes so hard she was surprised she didn't end up staring at the back of her skull. _God, he's impossible_. "Tom-"

"Sorry," he interjected with a grimace, his shoulders dropping. "I'm being a dick. Thank you - for saying all that. But it was nothing." He started powering up the sensors and the mechanical systems. "Looks like we're ready to go."

After nearly two years together, she knew very well when a topic was being declared off-limits - for the time being, at least. "I'll start the engine pre-flight sequence for you." She started to extend her arm out from the warmth of the thermal jacket. A gentle hand closed around her wrist.

"Since you're currently so open to me taking care of you," he said with a soft smile, "I'm going to press my advantage. You should be keeping that leg elevated. Go lie down. I can handle this."

"OK," she said, standing slowly. B'Elanna watched him for a moment, wondering if he'd turn to help her or perhaps offer up his mouth for a kiss. When his attention remained solely on the shuttle's controls, she moved aft, once more inhaling his scent from the warm fabric that surrounded her.


	9. Chapter 9

_There was no moon on Kessik. The night sky was an inky black dotted with only the light of distant stars. In the kitchen, it was dark and cold. She couldn't remember a time when it was so cold. Was that ice on the window? Or was it a crack in the glass? She reached out a hand to touch it. A voice called out and stopped her._

 _I won't be gone long, Belleza._

 _I don't want you to go._

 _I just need a bit of a rest, Belleza. I'll only be in the hospital a few days. I'll see you when I get home._

 _She turned to run to her grandmother for a hug goodbye, but her father stepped between them, blocking Abuela's petite frame from view._

 _She never thought I should marry your mother. She never thought I had the constitution to live with even one Klingon, much less two._

 _She never said those things!_

 _Moody. Unpredictable. Argumentative._

 _You shouldn't say that stuff about Mommy!_

 _You're so much like your mother._

 _Abuela!_

 _But they were gone. She was alone. She climbed onto one of the chairs that ringed the kitchen table. There was too little light now for her to see the knots and grain of the wood. She wrapped her arms around her knees and shivered in the cold._

 _B'Elanna?_

 _There was someone standing in the doorway. Someone tall and fair. She caught a flash of a red-shouldered uniform._

 _Why are you sitting here in the dark?_

 _They left me alone._

 _So just turn on the light._

B'Elanna's eyes flew open. She grasped at the covering that lay over her - a warm but insubstantial silver blanket. Tom's coat was gone. The bright lights, the antiseptic smell - she flopped back against the firm mattress that supported her. _Sickbay_.

"Ah! Lieutenant Torres!" The Doctor made his way over her to biobed, Snooty Look No. 11 uploaded and active. The one, he thought mistakenly, that made him look congenial. "So nice of you to join us again."

"My leg is numb," was her only reply. She propped herself up on her elbows and regarded the relevant limb where it lay enclosed by a regeneration arch.

"That's deliberate," the Doctor said, flipping open his tricorder. "I assumed the numbness would be a preferable sensation to that of hundreds of nanites decontaminating your wound."

"You assumed correctly," she muttered, closing her eyes as she lay back down. Her head was swimming. She felt as wobbly as one of the newborn _minn'hor_ her mother's cousin raised on Qo'noS. "How long am I down for this time?"

"No less than forty-eight hours, Lieutenant." He arched an eyebrow at her. "And you'll be confined to quarters for another seventy-two hours after that. I've received permission from Commander Chakotay to erect a forcefield at your door if that should prove necessary."

B'Elanna opened her eyes again. _Better just get it over with_. "It won't be. I'll be good this time. I promise." She chewed her bottom lip a moment. "Also… I'm sorry for sneaking around the last several days. And for lying to you."

"Apology accepted." The Doctor had turned his focus to the readouts on the regeneration arch, tapping the control panel here and there. "It's been quite the banner day for me for apologies, actually. Mr. Paris was uncharacteristically contrite for exhibiting such poor judgement today."

"Poor judgement?"

The Doctor gestured at her leg. "For letting you go on the shuttle! For not dealing with your laceration promptly!"

"Doctor."

"If he had addressed it appropriately at the time of injury it's unlikely you would have become septic. I'm going to have consider giving him remedial medical instruction."

"Doctor."

"He really should know better by-"

"Doctor!" B'Elanna sat up again, ignoring her incipient vertigo. He'd taken the fall for her again. Only this time she wasn't going to let him get away with it. "It wasn't Tom's fault. I… I may have implied that you specifically cleared me to go on the mission. And I wouldn't _let_ him treat the wound properly. I'm the only one to blame here."

The Doctor's frown lines deepened. "Really, Lieutenant!" he exclaimed, arms crossed. "This is unforgivable. Not only have you additionally compromised your already compromised health, but you've put me in the position of having to apologize. To Mr. Paris!"

She put a hand on the irate hologram before he could storm off. "Where is he? Tom, I mean."

"He left. About twenty minutes ago."

"Oh," she murmured, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She shouldn't be surprised. What, he was just going to hang around Sickbay until she woke up? It's not like he didn't have duties to attend to. He had other responsibilities, better things to do than just sit here holding her hand while the Doctor subjected him to his latest screed.

"He should be back in two days. We'll see if this time he can avoid creating additional work for me."

She looked up at that. "Two days?"

"The boridium, Lieutenant. Just because you sabotaged the mission doesn't mean we don't need it. You'd think you'd recall that it's a major component of the circuitry of my mobile emitter!

The _Delta Flyer_ 's warp refit is complete now, so he's taken it back to the asteroid belt with Lieutenant Vorik."

He'd left. He'd made sure she got back to _Voyager_ , got the medical care she needed, and he'd left. Maybe it was the fever making her so maudlin, or maybe it was the memory of being wrapped so tenderly in that damn coat - but it hurt. That he'd left the ship rather than staying until she'd awakened. That he hadn't waited long enough to say goodbye.

Although maybe she was to blame for that as well. Maybe he'd caught the flash of rage she felt when he'd admitted he knew he was wrong about Moset. Maybe while she'd slept, he'd had the time to reflect on how awful she'd been to him this week. Her depressing ruminations were interrupted by a sudden rumbling sound.

The EMH regarded her abdomen - the source of the noise disturbance - with a look akin to wonder. "Clearly your gastrointestinal tract is in good working order. I'll have to give this to Mr. Paris - he certainly knows you well."

"What are you going on about now?" She was never so irritable as when she was embarrassed. Sometimes B'Elanna thought the only thing having a redundant stomach accomplished was making sure the entire crew knew when she'd missed a meal.

The Doctor adjusted the biobed until she was propped upright then turned to retrieve something hidden below the level of her bed. "He requested I give you this when you awakened."

It was a covered dinner tray. She lifted the top and her face broke into a smile at the spread laid out before her: potato salad, a fried chicken sandwich, peanut butter cookies. She inhaled deeply and her mouth watered. "He left this for me?"

"There's something else, as well," the Doctor stated. He bent down again. "He wanted to put it with the food, but I objected on the grounds that it appears to be highly unsanitary." As the hologram stood, B'Elanna saw the current object of his disdain dangling from his thumb and forefinger, the Doctor's arm extended as far away from his body as possible.

"Toby!" Her cheeks flushed hot when she realized she'd made no effort to hide her delight at the appearance of her old toy.

The Doctor dropped the little targ into her lap. "So, you're familiar with this… creature?"

"Yes," she murmured, rubbing a thumb over one glassy black eye. B'Elanna whipped up her face to glower at the hologram. "And if you want to keep all your photons, you'll remember his existence falls under the heading of 'doctor-patient confidentiality!"

The Doctor's lips thinned at her threat. "I won't say a word."

Once she was certain her scowl had sent the Doctor back to the Klingon-free refuge of his office, B'Elanna looked down to smile at the little toy. She wouldn't say that the well-loved targ was a perfect substitute, but having Toby here - knowing that Tom had taken the time to make sure he was here when she awoke - it was a pretty good second best.

No, B'Elanna supposed as she tucked into her potato salad, it wasn't so bad, really. Letting someone take care of her once in a while. A person could almost get used to it.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Author's note:** Thanks to everyone for leaving such great reviews! I had a lot of fun writing this one and giving Tom and B'Elanna a few moments of fluff amongst the angst. Not to mention a chance to come up with an origin story for Toby the Targ and to give B'Elanna the gift of a loving grandmother, even if she lost her too soon. And now for something completely different...


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